Just a Social Call (For Berial)

The caramel-skinned man settled into the chair of the booth of the izakaya by a fairly huge window in an unassuming corner, where the approach from behind was cut off, taking a quick horizontal glance around at the populace. Seems the business here was decently slow, given it was a cold Saturday night. Despite that, he'd chosen to dress in his Sunday's best. A three-button, black two-piece accented by a dark red tie. The same extended down to his pants which were the same color as his upper quarters. The eyes that framed Hiroyuki's face were inquisitive and of a dulled golden color, barring the dark edges around his eyelids.

Hiroyuki palmed the magazine at his side on the seat. His fingers curled around a certain page, lifting the reading material before planting it squarely on the table and flipping into onto the correct subject he was looking for. The lastest issue had caught his eye because among other matters it detailed the imperative answer of who'd be running Momentum. That was, as one may guess, one of the two promotions he'd be competing under. His night job, you could say.

Hiroyuki's gaze scanned through the lines of text, taking it in with as much genuine 'enthusiasm' as one could when he was waiting on another. Yes, he had not come to this bar to drink alone. Furthermore, Hiroyuki had enough impulse control to avoid running up his alcohol bill feverishly but the woman of the hour who he previously called for a required appointment of catching up did not arrive yet. So, he was coerced into waiting. In such a meantime, a server had walked to Hiroyuki's booth to take his order if he was ready. He favored a drink at the moment, so he spoke it out as an apple-flavored glass of liquor. Most of the basic beverages tastes akin to dog's water or paint thinner in his opinion. One minute and a quarter finally dragged on before he recieved what he wanted. It had a cost, he already knew that, while pulling for two 1000 Yen notes from his wallet. One for a tip and one for the drink itself. The youthful man gave only a slight bow in gratitude before shifting his stance to walk off and attend to the other customers. Hiroyuki's outstretched hand curled back into a soft fist which he put back on the magazine. He let the alcohol rest there, only having wanted the drink to be ready for him so he could commence the party when Sae arrived.

Concerning the issue, the "promotional" picture of Elizabeth had caught him by scoff-worthy surprise. If his thoughts were allowed on it, Hiroyuki would conclude the executive's conditioning to be similar to shaved marble. That wasn't an insult. She looked very pleasing to his eye and he could begin to admire that physical and mental drive she talked about while he read along the pages. That quality was what had gravitated him towards Yamamoto in the first place. She was worth getting to know better, at least.

Business of Kings, Knights, and Liars:

Sae had walked past these particular doors often on patrols; less so nowadays. She'd lost her appetite for casual dining with friends a long time ago. A lifetime undercover had given her aversion to the taste of gyoza and cheap sake. Each taste brought nothing but harsh memories; the feeling of a knife at her back, of the

It had been a long while since she’d accepted a dinner invitation. Even longer from a man.

Sae Yamamoto, Queen of Killjoys:

Don’t get the wrong idea. Her admittedly constrained personal life hadn’t become so desperate that she would go out of her way to seek this kind of attention. There were clear and rational reasons behind this meeting tonight. The promise of a stiff drink aside.

Hiroyuki Takijima was one of several fresh acquisitions that Momentum had adopted as part of the Winterborne administration. Sae had made it a point to meet with each of them. Hiroyuki was one of the few men that had opted to make the transition. His history was somewhat mired in inconsistencies, especially surrounding his relative, Senji. On paper, this was strictly business. And she’d preferred things stayed that way.

But then again, this was AFW.

The former agent stepped into the familiar scene of a nightly restaurant in full swing. Flushed faces of the inebriated and freshly-released corporate hounds lined the warmly-lit wooden stools along the mahogany bar at the far end of the room. Sae’s gaze hovered from right to lift in a laser-focused scan across the compact space, analyzing the groups of faces and drunks from one end of the room to the other. In no short time, her red-violet eyes settled on a white-haired man sitting far off in the corner.

His dossier didn’t do his appearance justice. In this lively setting of non-stop banter, his poised demeanor spoke volumes louder. Sae could commend him for being more interesting than any other rookie she’d met in her short time here. From first impressions, at least. She made her way from the door to his tableside, her back straight and eyes staring straight at the tall, dark stranger. She came to his side and looked at the table, scoffing.

“You didn’t order one for me.” She remarked simply, taking the opposite seat from Hiroyuki. She leaned forward and rested her arms against the table. Relaxed and composed, but with a heavy air about her person that seemed strictly business. “We’re off to a bad start, Hiroyuki. This doesn't bode well for the rest of your career.”

First date, and he's already mucking up. Or rather, his forced risk had not worked out for him. See? This is why relying on chance is fickle, as the father had taught him to the tone of a cautionary tale. That, and the universal of "your choices have consequences". Down to the barbaric contest of fighting, he took time to commit to the ideal of thinking before acting. Planning over speed, to varying results of long-term based tactics. Hiroyuki's eyes snapped to her face to verify the identity when he heard the tap of boots against the ground. An intense, controlling voiced laced with warning greeted his ears. Instantly, his lips curled downward into a frown at the statements that swirled his mood akin to the ice in the chilling glass.

He could save this second outing. And this time, he needn't worry about a boy's body giving out under the strain of keeping itself afloat amid the hasty aid he'd given it roughly two years ago. Taking a short inhale, Hiroyuki's mouth worked to not turn its owner further into an embarrassment. Wielding two rusty blades of argument against her natural armament of a "perfect" lance would only ruin the night.

"My sincerest apologies, I was disinterested in getting tips from a idiotic blog post about "How to make her love the wolf inside you.". Losers, the lot of them. Getting out of that, the pit I'm in would be bigger had I ordered something you didn't like, I imagine. Such is a waste of our time together and my money. I'm afraid I must insist you say otherwise if I'm wrong. There's only so much I can gather from your amicable humming and grunting, passive-aggressive kicking, and admittedly tight locks. Surprisingly, practicing in your 'knight's armor' makes it only a miniscule amount more of a constricting nightmare.", Hiroyuki conjectured quickly. The only sign she pressed a sliver of glass between his vertebrae, at the moment, was a bead of sweat.

"Considering you're still fashionable, I'm elated you came after me, Miss Yamamoto."

Alright, he thought to himself. Assertive enough, prompted by what came out naturally, to match the outside and not melt into silly putty yet gentle enough to soothe her irritation like morphine to the bloodstream. He had no thoughts of overdoing it on the suit. A man should always look his best as to where he could be married or buried right where he was without skipping a heartbeat. The caramel right palm guided back over the pages of the magazine, landing on the glass before sliding it over in front of Sae.

Yamamoto wanted one more than he did, so there was no harm in putting her above himself in the situation. Whether the older woman took a taste or not, he tapped a finger against the closed menu and then the journalistic interview.

"You get to pick your poison thrice. Personal or Proper? My day or your workday?"

Huffing along to the train of social interaction, Hiroyuki returned his hands to beneath the table to interlock them and lean forward as if Sae was telling a stimulating tale.